Ah once again Yes yes Irie Getter rough Get with people under the stairs Once again Rough We tackle rhymes like your life lays time We trying to get enough, we gotta fill up Before it's all gone the song remains on Until the beat stops, never mind, no need to remind You know who we be, yo it's the capital g's Putting the p's in hip hop, saying hi to the ho's Who wear hardly any clothes, here's looking at you Watching you, watching me the incredible MC Chicks call me Mikey (why's that?) cause I like it They stare when I'm digging it and know they wanna try it They like the way I rap, they like the way I chill Couple hours in a conversation show them how I thrill I'm a one-minute man I lick it then split it Empty it out fill it in like the blank and I'm out Big mike that's right give them something they can feel Yo I'm the top-ranked chief on the wheels of steel I walk the streets of LA and feel comfortable Me and the homie make music and they come in with bullets So next time you got a rhyme that's blazing hot, throw it away People under to save the day Sometimes it ain't timed, sometimes it can't be This time we kick back and let your conscious be free The music is playing loud and we never have to leave We never gotta leave, we never gotta leave I ain't going nowhere Let your conscience be free Yes yes Irie Beautiful brown skin lady, you move something, Montego Bay-style Smile from the Caribbean isle, no fronting while we pumping the beat Audio files to jumping like guile out of their seat With the complete vibe, scooters, and 45's to palm trees Red-stripped nights the calm breeze the type to relax Ease back to conceive wax and contact the origin of habitat Two cats making it fat, it's like that With a rap similar to a pitter-pat of a cat Walking a roof to make it back to the truth (I dig crates) for the late-great existence of black plates To booming the eighths on the floor, making you want more Leaving my mark like a dark mark on a wood floor It's good for the soul like dinner with your moms People under the stairs the duo who drop bombs Snares laid back like armchairs at the beach I'm outta reach, so play my CD and let it teach The recipe: Half b. Crocker, half David T. Walker Fresh breath control like Binaca Sometimes it ain't timed, sometimes it can't be This time we kick back and let your conscience be free The music is playing loud and we never have to leave We never gotta leave, we never gotta leave Never gotta leave, man Stay right here Came here to rough up the crowd Yes, yes To the people under the stairs Yes, yes Irie, irie We had a fire today in east l. A Hundred and ten got burned The governor said: It's quite ok They're all on musical dope anyway!